Empty Is the Shape of Silence
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: In the aftermath of a serious illness, Jean-Luc Picard faces an uncertain future. Who will he meet and what lessons will he learn on his road to recovery?
1. Chapter 1

**Empty Is the Shape of Silence**

**Author's Note:** I wrote this about 20 years ago, so it is one of my earlier stories. It was originally published in the fanzine _Tantalus 3_.

**Disclaimer: **The crew of the Starship _Enterprise_ doesn't belong to me.

The fever rose steadily, raged through his body with a vengeance, burning tongues of fire that licked at the last, cool, dark corners of his mind and set them aflame. His system had resisted every drug Beverly Crusher had administered, and he'd slipped into a semi-comatose state, eyes slightly open, but glazed and unseeing. The doctor sat by his bed for hours at a time, bathing his body with a damp cloth, whispering soothing words. There was little response. Occasionally a sound, low in his throat, like a half-moan, as if he were in pain. She prayed that he wasn't.

She hadn't yet identified the cause of the fever, had at first assumed it was a simple virus that would run its course in a few days. But it had been a week now, and Beverly Crusher knew there was nothing simple about the captain's illness.

"Any change?"

She looked up from her desk. Will Riker leaned in the open door frame of her office.

She smiled weakly. "No."

Riker stepped further into the room, sank into a chair opposite her. "You still have no idea what's causing this?"

She shook her head tiredly. "None. I have teams of doctors in the lab working around the clock, but they haven't found anything yet. I don't even have any theories."

"What's going to happen to him?"

Crusher stared at the first officer, forced herself to give him a clinical answer instead of an emotional one. "If the fever persists much longer, it can cause brain damage... even death."

"Beverly!"

"I'm sorry, Will," her voice was hard, as if stealing herself against the prognosis, "but it's a possibility."

He leaned back in his chair, ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, God," he breathed. For a moment all he could think of were those away missions the captain had managed to come back from, and now some stupid, unknown virus could possibly kill him. "What do we do?"

"Exactly what we're doing right now. Wait... and hope."

Riker rubbed his eyes, then nodded. "Yeah." He looked back at the doctor. "How are you doing?"

"Me?"

"Deanna said you're not getting much sleep."

"Neither are you."

"No," he shrugged, "I guess none of us are."

Except for Jean-Luc, Crusher thought, but didn't say anything.

~vVv~

"Deanna?"

The dark-haired woman stood beside Picard's bed, staring down at him, her hand gently rubbing his forehead. She looked up at the sound of her name.

"Hi."

"Hi," Crusher returned as she walked over and stood across from her. She gazed at the captain. "How is he?"

"Quiet."

"Do you sense anything?"

Troi shook her head. "Nothing. No thoughts or dreams." She saw Crusher frown slightly. "But I don't sense any pain either," she added quickly.

The doctor's frown faded. "Thanks, Deanna."

"Waiting is always difficult, isn't it?"

"You'd think I would have grown used to it by now."

"There are some things we never grow used to."

"I know," Crusher agreed. "I've seen him ill a half a dozen times, and I never grow used to him being anything other than vital and commanding."

"He will be again, Beverly." Troi drew her hand away from the captain's forehead, walked around to the other side of the bed, and gave Crusher a hug. She stepped back. "Now don't stay in here all night. Get yourself some rest."

"I will."

Troi left, and Crusher leaned across, checked the IV that dripped into Picard's arm. Then she pulled a chair over, and sat down. The diagnostics panel above the bed indicated that there had been no change in his temperature; it still hovered just under 104 degrees.

"Oh, Jean-Luc." She reached over, took hold of his hand; even it was fevered, hot. She held it to her cheek, stared at his face, could just barely see the dark green of his eyes. "If you can hear me, stop this, Jean-Luc Picard. Just... stop it." She reached up, wiped a tear from her eye.

_What happens if I lose you? __What do I do? What do we all do?_

There were no answers, despite the fact that she'd thought of these questions before. How many nights had she lain awake and thought of what it would be like to lose all the people she loved? She never thought of that with Jack; it never occurred to her that something would happen to him. They loved each other too much for that. But then she'd lost him, and found that love wasn't powerful enough to defeat death. And here, holding Jean-Luc's hand, she realized it all over again. She needed him. Even more so now that Wesley was back on Earth at the Academy. Jean-Luc Picard was all she had left from the old days.

She sat there for almost an hour, just holding his hand, reluctant to leave. But finally, remembering Troi's suggestion, she went back to her office, tried to get some rest. The thought of going all the way to her cabin and getting a proper night's sleep never entered her mind. She could never be that far away from him. So, she leaned back in her desk chair, closed her eyes, and within minutes, fell asleep.

~vVv~

"Doctor. Doctor Crusher."

She opened her eyes, blinked up at Selar. "What is it?"

"The captain's temperature has risen."

She bolted out of her office, ran down the corridor to his room. When she stepped through the door, she froze. A medic was beside Picard's bed, holding the captain down. And Crusher was momentarily shocked by his activity. For the past week he'd been so still, and now he was tossing, turning, fighting the medic's restraining hands.

Crusher came back to herself, remembered who she was. She grabbed a hypospray off the instrument tray, set it, went over and reached in past the medic, pressed the hypo to Picard's neck. Seconds later, his movement diminished. She studied the readouts above him. One hundred and six degrees.

"Bring me a basin of water/alcohol solution and some cloths," she instructed the medic. _When all else fails, doctors_ _go back to the old ways_, she thought. _Sometimes they're the best._

She pulled the sheets and blankets off of Picard, quickly removed his pajamas. The medic returned, and they both began to rub him down with the dampened cloths. Two hours later, his temperature had dropped four degrees.

Crusher breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that it wasn't just temporary.

"Thanks Gordon," she looked over at the medic. He was putting a clean pair of pajamas on the captain. Then they pulled the blankets up around him. His fever broken, he had begun to perspire. She didn't want him to become chilled, causing his fever to rise again.

"You can go now," she said, and the medic left.

Crusher leaned over, ran her hand along Picard's face. It felt a little cooler, the grey fringe of hair around his ears damp from the cloth she'd bathed him with. She kissed his forehead. "All right, you, that's enough. Get well."

She pulled the chair closer, sat down, propped her elbows on the edge of the bed, rested her chin in her hands. She wasn't going anywhere. Except to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, her head sank onto the bed.

~vVv~

Umm. It felt nice, the gentle pressure on her head, the feel of someone stroking her hair. She smiled, yawned, came awake slowly, but then snapped her head up when she remembered where she was.

He drew his hand away, stared at her, a slight grin playing across his lips. He'd always loved the color of her hair, the softness, the way it fell over her shoulders. It had been the first thing he'd seen as his eyes focused and his surroundings took shape. Instinctively, he'd reached out, touched the fine red strands.

"Jean-Luc," she breathed, looked up at the diagnostics panel. 99.2. It wasn't normal, but it was beautiful. She grabbed hold of his hand. It was comparatively cool. "Thank God." She started to ask him how he felt, but the grin on his face had faded and the look that replaced it was at first puzzled, and then frightened.

"Jean-Luc?" Something was wrong.

His eyes grew wider, and his jaw began to tremble, his hand tightened around hers. "Beverly," he rasped, "I... I can't hear you."

~vVv~

"I've given him a mild sedative," Crusher explained, staring across her desk at Riker and Troi. "He's not asleep, but he's resting. Gordon is with him."

"The fever caused this?" Riker asked.

"Yes," Crusher answered simply.

"Then it's brain damage?"

"Not exactly." Crusher leaned forward, folded her hands on the desk. "The severity of the fever destroyed the nerve endings in the captain's inner ears."

"Can the nerves be regenerated?" Troi inquired.

The doctor shook her head. "No. The damage was too extensive. But there are other alternatives."

"Auditory implants?" Troi suggested.

"That's a possibility," Crusher replied.

Riker stared at the counselor, a look of surprise on his face.

She smiled slightly. "I do read medical journals every now and then, Will."

He sighed. "Then explain these auditory implants to me?"

Her smile faded. "I didn't say how closely I read them."

"Actually they're very simple," Crusher spoke up. "They're surgically placed in the inner ears, and basically perform the same function as the damaged nerve endings. Much less complicated than the cardiac implant he already has."

Riker nodded. He rarely thought about the captain's heart. Hadn't even been aware of the arthenogenetic implant until Picard had to have a replacement. A slight shiver ran up Riker's spine. They'd almost lost him then, too.

"Beverly..." Troi hesitated. "Auditory implants aren't possible for all patients."

"I know. I've contacted Doctor Edward Warrick. He's the best in his field. We worked together at Starfleet Medical. I want him to examine the captain. And if the implants are possible, he can perform the surgery. He's done it dozens of times."

"Starfleet's sending him then?" Riker asked.

"Yes. But... it's going take at least a week for him to get here. Now, in a way, that's good. The captain needs the time to recuperate. His temperature is almost down to normal, and although we still haven't determined the cause of his illness, I believe that the worst of it is over." She exhaled a deep breath. "The next few days won't be easy for the captain. He's going to be very disoriented and self-conscious. Damage to the inner ear can cause balance problems, and once he's a little stronger, he's not going to like the idea of having to depend on someone to help him with simple tasks, like walking, dressing himself."

"We'll all help, Beverly," Riker assured her.

"I know you will. I'm just concerned as to how much help he'll accept."

~vVv~

Not much, Beverly Crusher discovered the next morning when she tried to help Picard out of bed. He shook his head, pushed her hand away, determined to do it himself. And he did manage to stand. One step towards the bathroom, however, proved too much, and he pitched forward. Luckily, Gordon was there, and he reached out and caught him before he hit the floor.

Crusher took hold of Picard's shoulders, shook him slightly. He looked at her.

"Let Gordon help," she said, over enunciating each word so he could read her lips.

He nodded resignedly, leaned against the medic. Gordon led Picard into the bathroom and helped him take a bath and shave and then change into a pair of pajamas. A half hour later, when he returned, the doctor was waiting for him next to his bed.

Once he was settled under the covers, and Gordon had left, Crusher leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. He glared up at her. She took hold of his hands.

"You are going to be all right," she assured him. "There is a good chance that the auditory implants can compensate for the damage."

He squinted at her, unsure of what she'd said. "Beverly?" he whispered.

She pulled a tray table over to his bed, activated the computer that was on it, then keyed in the words she'd just spoken. Picard read them, nodded. Their conversation continued, with Crusher speaking directly to his face and only typing in the sentences he couldn't understand.

"I know this is frightening, Jean-Luc. But it will get easier to deal with. And when Doctor Warrick arrives, we'll get things taken care of."

"What if..." he began, swallowed several times, then continued. "What if I'm not able to receive the implants?"

"Then we begin extensive therapy. Deafness is not nearly the handicap it once was. People can live perfectly normal lives."

Picard gaped at her, incredulously, shook his head. "No..." He couldn't lead a normal life if he couldn't hear. He couldn't be a starship captain if he couldn't communicate with his crew. Surely she understood that. "I..." He couldn't even hear his own voice, and it was unnerving.

Crusher sensed his frustration. "It's all right, Jean-Luc." She rubbed her hand over his shoulder. "Let's just hope that the implants are possible. If not, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Picard frowned. And Crusher remembered that he hated sayings like 'cross that bridge when we come to it,' and 'putting the cart before the horse.'

She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. If I bring you some breakfast will you forgive me?"

He sighed. "Maybe."

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

He appeared at the door to her office the next day, standing there on unsteady legs, leaning heavily against the door frame.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Crusher scolded getting out of her chair and going over to him.

Picard took a deep breath. "Will you release me?"

Crusher gaped at him. "You can barely walk."

"Can't you give me something for the dizziness?"

She sighed. "Yes. Come on."

Taking him by the arm, Crusher led him into the main examining room, then helped him sit on the edge of the biobed. She went over to an instrument tray and returned with a hypospray. She pressed it against the side of his neck.

Picard grimaced. "Umm."

Crusher placed her hands on his shoulders, looked directly into his eyes. "That should help. But you don't need to be going anywhere."

He shook his head. "I want to go back to my cabin, Beverly."

She frowned slightly, started to protest.

"Please."

And the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, made her realize how important this was to him. And she agreed.

~vVv~

Crusher wasn't thrilled at the idea of having him return to his cabin. It would be difficult to contact him. But Geordi LaForge found a solution to that problem. He modified Picard's communicator so that it would vibrate slightly instead of making its usual high pitched beep. When he felt the vibration, hewould know to go to his computer for any messages.

Troi and Crusher stood in the corner of Picard's cabin watching the captain and the chief engineer discuss the communication's set up. The expression on the doctor's face was deeply worried.

"He'll be all right, Beverly," Troi said quietly.

Crusher looked at her doubtfully.

"He has to prove to himself that he can still be independent," the counselor explained.

"I know," Crusher nodded.

Just then the door chime sounded, and all conversation stopped. For a second, no one said anything. Picard looked at LaForge, a confused expression on his face.

Quickly, LaForge answered the chime.

"Come."

The door slid open and Will Riker stepped into the cabin.

"Captain." He stopped and addressed Picard. "I thought you might like someone to accompany you to the bridge?"

Picard stared at his first officer blankly, unsure of what he'd said.

"The bridge?" Riker said slowly.

"Ah. Yes," Picard nodded in understanding. He looked over his shoulder at Crusher, unconsciously asking her permission.

She smiled and inclined her head slightly, then watched as Picard and Riker left the room.

~vVv~

Riker was talking. Picard knew that because he could see the man's lips moving. But despite the fact that he was doing his best to speak directly to his captain's face, Picard understood little of what he said. He simply nodded at what he felt were appropriate moments.

"We finished delivering the food supplies to the Zenithian colonies," Riker was saying. "Now we're on a heading to rendezvous with the _Grissom_ in four days."

A blond-haired ensign walked quietly up beside Riker. He and the captain stopped. The ensign handed Riker a computer tablet, and the first officer scanned it, then accepted the stylus the ensign offered and signed it.

"Thank you," she said, then looked over at Picard. "It's nice to see you, sir."

Picard smiled slightly and nodded, realizing the ensign had spoken to him. She took the tablet out of Riker's hands, and continued on her way. Riker and Picard resumed walking.

"John Lowell, the _Grissom's_ first officer, is an old friend of mine," Riker said. Picard struggled to understand. "We graduated from the Academy together. It'll be good to see him."

Suddenly, Picard felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, and he reached out and grabbed hold of Riker's arm.

"Captain?"

Picard took several deep breaths, then nodded, let go of Riker. "I'm all right."

~vVv~

The chair in his ready room felt good, comfortable, and Picard leaned back in it possessively. Riker stood in front of his desk, looking down at him like an over-sized mother hen.

"Is there anything I can bring you, sir?"

Picard stared up at his lips.

"No. Thank you."

"A cup of tea?"

Picard shook his head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Commander," he replied, annoyed.

"I'll be on the bridge then," he said meekly. "If you need me."

"I'm fine, Number One." Picard's voice was firm.

"Yes, sir."

Riker turned and left the room. Picard sighed, rubbed his forehead. The effort to understand silent words caused his head to ache. Swiveling his chair to the right, he looked over at the viewport. Slowly, he got up and went over to it, leaned against the frame, stared out into the silence of space.

~vVv~

Beverly Crusher was concerned. Picard was growing increasingly depressed. Oh, he did a fine job of concealing his emotions, but she knew him too well. He ate very little, didn't sleep well, tossed and turned all night, plagued by nightmares he refused to talk about. In fact, he refused to talk about almost anything. He had become terribly unsure of his own voice. Since he couldn't hear it, he was afraid to use it. And once, when Crusher had pointed this fear out to him, he'd gotten very upset.

His trips to the bridge became few and far between. And Crusher worried. Because the bridge and the ready room were his place, his domain. And if he didn't feel comfortable there, where would he find the comfort he so desperately needed.

Crusher visited him in his cabin several times during the day, never quite sure in what state of mind she would find him.

She stood on the other side of the room, next to the door and watched him, his elbows propped on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. She went over, sat down beside him, placed a warm hand on his back. He shrugged, pulled away. She touched his cheek, made him turn his face to her.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

He shook his head.

"Tell me, Jean-Luc. You can't keep it all bottled up inside."

He didn't respond.

"All right. If you won't talk to me, then talk to Deanna."

"No," he murmured.

She put her hand on his back again. "Jean, I know what you're going through."

He stiffened, stared at her, his green eyes blazing. "You don't know," he exploded, got up, started to pace back and forth, although he didn't feel very steady at the moment. "How could you know? You have no idea. It's all silent, Beverly. I can't even hear my own voice. People I pass in the corridors, they're all talking, I see their lips moving, but I can't hear them."

He stopped next to his desk, braced his hand against the edge for support as he experienced a slight wave of vertigo. The drugs only helped so much. "And I keep thinking the most nonsensical things. Like if a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear it, does it make a sound." He lowered his eyes, rubbed at his forehead, then looked back at her. "Does it, Beverly? Does it make a sound?"

She stood up, went over to him, placed her hands on his shoulders. "Just a few more days, Jean-Luc. Then Doctor Warrick will be here, and everything will be all right."

"You don't know that. I could be like this for the rest of my life."

"I don't believe that." She tightened her grip on his shoulders. "And you can't believe it either."

He wrenched away from her grasp. "Don't tell me what to believe."

He headed back towards the couch, lost his balance and stumbled, fell against a chair.

Crusher hurried over to him, helped him up into a sitting position. She sat down on the edge of the coffee table.

"Please leave me," he mumbled.

"No."

He lowered his head; she touched his chin, tried to raise it. He refused to look up.

"Jean-Luc." She said his name, although she knew he couldn't see her lips. "Look at me." She took hold of his shoulders, shook him good and hard. "Look at me."

And he did. And the look in his eyes frightened her. "Leave," he said bitterly. "Just... go."

"No," she repeated.

He stood up abruptly, brushed past her, his gait uneven. He went to the door; it opened. He braced his hand against the wall. "I want you to leave now, Beverly. That's an order."

She went to the door. "All right. But I'll be back." She stepped into the corridor, and the door slid closed behind her.

~vVv~

"Beverly?"

Crusher looked up, startled, gasped when she realized who the woman in the middle of her office was.

"Vash!"

"Q brought me." She took a step closer to the doctor's desk. "I know about Jean-Luc. How is he?"

Crusher nodded. "Please, have a seat."

The woman sat down, and the doctor proceeded to explain the captain's condition to her.

"I want to see him," Vash said when Crusher was finished.

"He's very frightened."

"I know. That's why I have to see him."

Crusher sighed. "All right."

She walked with Vash to the captain's cabin, neither of them speaking, both lost in their own separate thoughts. Crusher was bothered by the realization that this woman might be able to comfort Picard, the knowledge that Vash could be for him what she wasn't. _But that's not important now,_ she told herself. _If Vash can help Jean-Luc then that has to be all that matters._

Crusher left the woman at his door.

~vVv~

Vash stood in the half-light of Picard's cabin. The stars outside the viewport were ghostly illumination. The man sat in a chair across the room from her, bent over, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, and she knew that he was crying.

She went over, knelt in front of him, touched him on the knee.

He jumped, startled, looked up at her. His eyes were bright, his face streaked with tears. "Vash," he breathed, swallowed convulsively. He started to reach up with his hand to wipe his tears away, but she stopped him.

"I'm here, Jean-Luc." She touched his cheeks, his chin, pressed her lips against his forehead, wrapped her arms around his body, cradled his head on her shoulder. And Picard let her hold him while he cried.

~vVv~

Picard stepped out of the shower, put on his white terry-cloth robe, let the thick material soak up the beads of water on his skin. He rubbed his arm over his face, dried it on his sleeve, then stared into the bathroom mirror. _God, you look old,_ he thought. And he felt old. Yet Vash had held him most of the night like a baby, rocking him gently in her arms. And he'd clung to her, like a child holding on to his mother, fearing that if he let go, he'd be irretrievably lost.

When he awoke, and found himself wrapped up in her arms, he suddenly became embarrassed, ashamed. And quietly, so as not to wake her, he crawled out of bed, and escaped into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would strengthen him. But it hadn't. He still felt weak.

He and Vash hadn't talked during the night. Picard knew she was being silent on purpose. Several times, in the dark hours after midnight, he'd reached over, touched her lips, desperate to hear her soft voice. She'd responded by kissing his fingers, his hands. Once, she'd said his name; he knew the shape of it on her lips. And he imagined that he'd heard it.

Suddenly, there was a face in the mirror beside his, and Picard turned quickly towards the now open door. Vash stepped over to him, held his face in her hands, kissed him tenderly, her lips soft against his.

"Good morning," she said, rubbing her thumb along his jaw.

"Good morning," he murmured in return.

"I've fixed us some breakfast. Are you hungry?"

He nodded, was fairly sure he'd understood the words breakfast and hungry.

Vash took his hand, led him through the bedroom and into the main living area. She sat him down at the table, brought him croissants, orange juice, and Earl Grey tea. She sank into the chair across from him with her own breakfast.

Picard stared at his plate for several long moments, then looked up at her. "Why are you here?"

Vash studied his face, the familiar lines around his eyes and mouth, the dimple in his chin. His voice sounded different, lower, rough.

"To be with you," she answered.

He shook his head. "You shouldn't have come."

She sighed. "Probably not. After all, it isn't appropriate."

"No... it's just... it's not a good time," he stammered.

"I know. That's why I came." She hesitated. "I thought you might need some help."

Picard stared at her, unsure of what she was saying. "Help?" he questioned.

Vash leaned toward him. "Yes. What one person gives to another person in time of need."

He stiffened slightly. "I know the definition, thank you."

"But do you understand it?"

Picard looked away, and Vash reached over and put her hand on his arm. "Don't shut me out, Jean-Luc."

He pulled his arm away, looked back at her. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why?" Vash threw her hands up in frustration. He could be so damned aggravating sometimes. And no matter what his condition, she wasn't about to stand for it. "Are you afraid I'll embarrass you again?"

He squinted his eyes. "What?"

Vash picked up a computer tablet at her side, typed in the words she'd just said, and slid it across the table at him. He read it.

"No... I'm..." he hesitated. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself."

The expression on her face softened, realizing the courage it took for Picard to admit this.

"Not with me you won't." She went over to him, knelt on the floor beside his chair. "I'm here for you Jean-Luc." She gazed into his eyes.

He swallowed. "Thank you... for holding me last night."

Vash smiled. "It was my pleasure. Besides, Maid Marian should get a chance to rescue Robin Hood every now and then."

A look of confusion passed over his face. Vash took the computer tablet, typed in her words, gave it to him.

Picard laughed out loud. He took hold of her hand, held it against his cheek.

"If I never hear again, I might like to spend the rest of my life in Sherwood Forest."

Vash grinned. "You'd just get bored."

He kissed the hand he held. "Not if you were there."

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

Beverly Crusher stretched, felt the muscles in her legs pull uncomfortably. She grimaced. What with the captain's illness and everything else, she hadn't found the time to exercise lately. But Troi had talked her into a morning workout.

The counselor was seated on the floor across from her.

"And she just appeared?" Troi asked.

Crusher nodded. "Out of nowhere. Q brought her."

Troi arched her eyebrows. "Let's hope he just dropped her off." She stared over at the doctor. "How do you feel about her being here?"

Crusher stopped her stretching, studied the inquisitive expression on Troi's face. "What?"

"It's just that I sense-"

"Don't go playing counselor with me," Crusher warned.

"I'm just being a friend."

Crusher sighed. "I'm glad she's here. She cares about Jean-Luc."

Troi reached over and squeezed the doctor's hand. "We all do."

~vVv~

The next few days were like riding a roller coaster for Picard. Up, then down. High, then low. His emotions turned, twisted, tripped. One moment, he felt strong, in control, and the next, he found himself back in Vash's arms, drawing strength from her, sharing the constant fear that weighed heavy on his soul.

And he paced. Back and forth, across his room. Stopped and braced his hand against a chair whenever he felt dizzy. Vash came to him.

"Will you sit down before you fall down?"

She helped him over to the couch, and he sat.

"Here." Vash smiled down, handed him a book. "Why don't you read?"

Picard frowned at her, pushed the book away. "I don't want to read."

"Fine." She dropped the book on the couch beside him. "Just sit there."

Vash returned to her place at the end of the couch. Picard scowled, picked up the book and opened it.

She smiled over at him, then went back to reading her own book.

Moments passed.

"I don't know how to be anything else."

Vash closed her book, looked back at Picard. She leaned over, touched him on the shoulder, and then with a gentle tug on his arm, she pulled him down on the couch, settled his head in her lap, stroked her fingers softly over his forehead. Sometimes, it was easier if he talked, and she simply listened, responded with a touch or a caress.

He stared up at her. "After the Borg, when I was... home, in France, I thought about never coming back, about never being the captain of a starship again. I actually gave it serious thought. But I belong here."

Vash rubbed her hand over his cheek.

"I don't know where I'll go if I can't stay."

Vash patted her chest and smiled down at him.

"With you?" He reached up, brushed his fingers through her hair, sighed deeply. "I'd like that, but I'd just be a burden."

"Jean-Luc Picard!" she exclaimed.

He sat up quickly, faced her. Vash held her hand to her lips, her eyes closed. _One, two, three..._ She counted to ten in her mind. And then she looked at him.

"I care about you, Jean-Luc." She enunciated each word clearly, so that there would be no misunderstanding. "Do you really think that you would be a burden to me?"

"Yes. Knowing you, your lifestyle. I couldn't keep up, I'd be... lost."

She touched his cheek. "I'd keep track of you."

"I'd slow you down, Vash. Keep you from going to all the places I know you'd want to go." He took a deep breath. "I will not allow you to give up that life to take care of me. I'll... take care of myself. Somehow. I'll be fine."

"Beverly believes that Doctor Warrick can help you."

Picard nodded, looked away. "Perhaps."

Vash took his face in her hands, turned it back toward her. "In the meantime, Jean-Luc, I want to take care of you." She kissed him, his mouth, his chin, even his eyes; tasted the saltiness of the tears gathered there. Then she drew him into her arms, and held him until he fell asleep.

~vVv~

The door chime sounded. Carefully, Vash lifted Picard's head from her lap, got up, laid him gently back down on the couch. She took a step toward the door.

"Come in."

It slid open and Beverly Crusher entered, medical kit in hand. She saw the captain asleep on the couch. "How is he?" she asked quietly, forgetting that the sound of her voice couldn't wake him.

"All right, I guess." Vash indicated the chairs at the table, and both women sat down. "He wears himself out worrying. If it weren't for the occasional dizziness that causes him to sit down every now and then, I think he would have worn a path in the carpet from pacing."

Crusher smiled slightly. "He does pace, doesn't he?"

Vash rolled her eyes. "Constantly. Although I did manage to get him to sit down for a while this afternoon and read a book. I think he read all of two paragraphs."

"He's... impatient at times."

"Yes, he is."

"Vash, I..." Crusher exhaled a deep breath. "I wanted to tell you how grateful I am that you're here for him."

"I'm glad that I can be. If Q hadn't brought me, I would have never known." She smiled in the captain's direction. "Jean-Luc is not very fond of my new partner. But I get the distinct impression that Q is fond of him, and all the people on this ship for that matter."

Crusher nodded. "Well, let's just say that Q probably holds a place in all our hearts. Somewhere."

"He's quite a character. But he's not all bad."

"No. Not if he brought you here." Crusher looked over at the captain, then reached out and touched her medical kit. "I need to examine him. I think I can get the necessary information without waking him though." She stood up, went over to the couch, sat on the edge of the coffee table. She gazed down at him.

His mouth was slightly open, his chest rising and falling evenly. The doctor ran a medi-scanner over his body, smiled up at Vash who'd come and stood beside her.

"All vital signs perfectly normal." She removed a hypospray from her kit, gave it to the woman. "Give him this when he wakes up. Just press it to side of his neck, and touch this button. The dosage is pre-set."

Vash studied the hypo. "This is for the dizziness?"

"Yes. It'll give him some prime pacing time." Crusher laughed, closed her medical kit and stood up. Her knee accidentally hit the couch. Picard stirred, opened his eyes.

"Umm," he yawned, stared up at the doctor. "What are you doing?" he mumbled warily.

Crusher smiled. "Just taking care of you, Jean-Luc."

He glanced over at Vash. "There's a lot of that going around."

"Yes, there is," Crusher agreed. "And she's doing a very good job of it. So I suggest you mind what she says."

"What?" He squinted up at her.

"Don't give Vash any trouble."

He nodded. "Oh. I won't."

"Good." Crusher turned to go. "Don't forget that hypo," she looked over her shoulder at Vash. "He'll act like it hurts, but it doesn't."

"Thanks, Beverly."

After the doctor was gone, Vash walked back over to the couch. Picard was sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She sat down beside him, placed her hand on his knee. She held the hypospray out in front of him.

"Beverly left this."

Picard groaned slightly. "For me?"

"Well it's not for me."

"All right." He tilted his head to one side, exposed the side of his neck. Vash pressed the instrument to his skin. Picard winced. "Ow."

She drew the hypo away. "Beverly says it doesn't hurt."

"It's not Beverly's neck."

"No, it's yours. And I love it." Vash leaned over and kissed the place on his neck where she'd pressed the hypo. Picard smiled, buried his face in her hair.

It was true. A kiss definitely made it all better.

~vVv~

"I'm sorry, Beverly."

Crusher stared at the grey-haired man seated in front of her desk.

"So am I," she murmured.

"Would you like me to tell him?"

"No, Edward, I'd better be the one."

"We'll tell him together; that way if he has any questions, I can answer them."

Crusher nodded. Questions. She had plenty herself. But none Edward Warrick could answer. Questions like: Why Jean-Luc? Why here, now? Why this? And what next? Oh, God, what next?

Warrick stood up. "Shall we tell him now?"

"Yes." Crusher followed the man out of her office, went into the main examining room. Picard lay on a biobed, resting after the thorough examination Warrick had given him. Crusher walked over to him, touched him lightly on the leg. He propped himself up on his elbows, looked from one doctor to the other, then sat all the way up, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked drily, although he'd already read the answer in Crusher's eyes.

"The implants won't work for you, Jean-Luc," Crusher said slowly.

Picard just stared at her, his face remained passive.

"You understand what I'm saying?" she leaned closer to him.

He nodded. "I understand."

"There is no reason to give up hope, Captain." Warrick took a step toward him. "With time and therapy, you can function like any other Starfleet officer."

Crusher winced inwardly at Warrick's choice of words. Jean-Luc Picard wasn't just any other Starfleet officer. That made him sound ordinary, average, run-of-the-mill. And this man was none of those things. But could he ever be who he was again? Was there enough time and therapy to accomplish that?

"Starfleet has a wonderful rehabilitation program on Earth," Warrick continued. "I'll be leaving on the _Grissom_ in two days. You're more than welcome to come with me."

Picard exhaled a long breath. So, this was it. Everything he'd ever wanted and worked for, taken away from him in a matter of minutes.

"Within three months, you could be back here," Warrick added.

"Doing what?" Picard asked.

"Captaining this ship."

Picard shook his head, laughed derisively. "You're telling me that Starfleet is going to allow a deaf captain on the bridge of the Enterprise?"

"Jean-Luc," Crusher touched his arm; he looked at her. "We have a blind chief engineer."

"But he can see, Beverly. Maybe not in the same way that you and I can see, but he can see."

"Yes. He sees in his own way." She took hold of his hand. "Just as you can learn to hear in your own way. You already have the beginnings of an ability to read lips."

Picard stared at the woman, shook his head. "No, Beverly. Most of the time I guess at the words." He was growing upset, his voice getting louder. "In conversations I... I get lost and then I just nod as if I understand what people are saying to me. But I don't. I don't understand."

"It won't always be that way, Jean-Luc." Crusher squeezed his hand. "I'll make the necessary arrangements for you to return to Earth with Doctor Warrick," she continued. "You'll be right there in San Francisco. You can see Wesley. And Will can take care of things here until you come back."

"No," Picard pulled his hand away, got off the biobed. She grabbed at his arm, but he eluded her, headed for the exit. "I won't be coming back."

And then he was gone.

Crusher stared at the closed door.

"He'll change his mind, Beverly," Warrick said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "After three months of intensive therapy, he'll be ready to come back."

She shook her head, blinked away the tears in her eyes. "I don't think so. He doesn't change his mind easily."

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

"Beverly?"

The doctor turned around. "Vash."

"Is he still here?" The woman's eyes scanned the examining room.

"No." Crusher's forehead wrinkled slightly, confused. "I thought he'd be with you."

"I haven't seen him since before Doctor Warrick's examination."

"Oh," Crusher shook her head, "I just assumed that-"

"I've learned never to assume anything where Jean-Luc is concerned," Vash interrupted. "Despite the fact that he's fairly predictable."

Crusher sighed. "Not always."

Vash gave her a questioning look. The doctor explained.

"The auditory implants won't be possible for Jean-Luc. But there is a rehabilitation program on Earth that is excellent, and there's a good possibility that in three months' time, he can be back on board this ship."

"As the captain?"

"Yes. There will have to be some changes. Will Riker would have to handle more of the diplomatic situations, but Jean-Luc's ability and experience, his decision-making skills, his knowledge of what is out here, is invaluable. Starfleet's not just going to throw that away."

"But Jean-Luc is," Vash said, suddenly understanding.

Crusher nodded. "If Jean-Luc Picard were truly predictable, then he'd be doing everything within his power to come back to this ship." She lowered her eyes. "As it is, he walked out of here almost an hour ago, saying he'd never come back."

Vash touched the doctor on the arm. "He's scared, Beverly."

"I know. So am I." She inhaled deeply, looked up at the ceiling. "Computer, location of Captain Picard?"

"Captain Picard is on Holodeck Three."

Crusher smiled slightly. "It's hard to hide from people on a starship."

"Maybe we should talk to him."

Crusher shook her head. "Maybe you should."

~vVv~

The portal groaned closed, and Vash found herself standing on a flagstoned patio, a large house looming behind her. It was evening, twilight actually, the cloudless sky filled with stars. She walked to the edge of the patio, looked out over the yard. And there, at the end of the lawn, sitting on a low stone fence, was Jean-Luc Picard. She recognized the familiar, worried hunch of his shoulders. She'd seen him like this a lot in the past week. His usual, perfect posture forgotten in the wake of so many other concerns.

Vash stepped onto the grass, and finding it damp, she reached down and slipped off her sandals, left them on the patio. Bare-footed, she walked down the gentle slope until she stood directly behind Picard. She didn't want to startle him, but wasn't sure how to announce her arrival. Finally, she gently placed her hands on his back. He jumped, turned around. In the pale starlight, she could see that his eyes glistened with unshed tears. She'd brought the computer tablet with her, and she typed in a message, held it so that he could read it.

"More moonlight?" he mumbled.

"So you can see what I'm saying." She typed in these words also.

Picard frowned. "Computer, more light."

Immediately the program augmented itself to comply with the given instruction. The sky brightened, yet not so much that the stars were no longer visible. The moon slid out from behind a tree, and suddenly there was a gas lamp three feet away from them where there hadn't been one before.

"Is that better?" he asked.

Vash smiled. "Much."

"Is that all. You ask for more moonlight so I can see what you're saying, and then you answer me with one word."

"What do you want me to say?"

He sighed exhaustively. "Nothing. I didn't ask you here."

"Do you want me to leave?" She started to go.

"No." He grabbed hold of her arm, pulled her down on the stone wall beside him. "I don't want you to leave."

"What do you want, Jean-Luc?"

"I..." he swallowed, "I want everything to be the way it was before I..." He swallowed again. "I want to be able to hear you. I want to be the captain of this ship."

"Beverly said that you can still be the captain of the Enterprise. After you're finished with the therapy, you can come back here."

Picard shook his head. "No," he answered firmly. "That is not the kind of captain I want to be: overly dependent on my crew, coddled by my chief medical officer."

"I don't think it would be that way."

"I do." Then he hesitated. "That house back there, that's the one I grew up in. And these stars, I wished on them every night. The first star, the second... every single one of them. And my wish was always the same. And it came true. Just like I wanted it to. Only now it's been taken away. And if I can't be..." He inhaled deeply. "If I can't be that captain I wished to be as a boy, then..."

"You'd rather not be a captain at all?"

"That's right."

Vash was silent for several moments. "You've changed," she finally said.

"Yes I have. I can't hear."

"No. I don't mean that." She took a deep breath, and continued. "The Jean-Luc Picard I met on Rysa took chances, risks. And so did the man who found himself stranded in the middle of Sherwood Forest." She reached out, traced the lines of his face with her fingers. "But I don't know you. And that makes me sad. Because I could always count on you to be the man I fell in love with. Only you're not him anymore."

Vash felt his lips and jaw begin to tremble, and then the tears spilled silently over his cheeks. She didn't try to wipe them away, just held his face in her hands.

"I'm scared," he gasped.

"I know. And it's all right to be. It's all right." She wrapped her arms around him, held him for long minutes, felt his tears land on her shoulder. She cried with him, for him, shared his pain.

When the shaking subsided, and the sobs diminished, Vash pulled away from him slightly, ran her hand over his cheeks and then her own.

"We make quite a pair, don't we?" he whispered.

"Yes we do." She stared into his tear-bright, forest green eyes. "Let me go with you, Jean-Luc. Back to Earth. There are a lot of things I need to say to you. Things that you need to learn how to hear."

"But afterward..."

"We'll make that decision then. All right, Robin Hood?"

"All right," Picard answered, rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. "But just one thing, Vash?"

"What's that?"

"Don't ever call me Robin Hood."

~vVv~

"Damn!" Vash dropped the suitcase, and it landed on the floor with a loud thud. She knelt down and continued to rummage through it. "Now, where did I put that... Ah, here you are." She took out a small shovel.

Three feet away from her, Picard lay on his stomach in the bed. He turned his head over, opened his eyes, stared at her. Quickly, she hid the shovel behind her back.

"Go back to sleep, Jean-Luc. It's nothing."

His eyes widened, and he sat up, a look of shock registering on his face.

"Jean-Luc." She went over to him, at the same time letting the shovel fall to the floor with a clank.

Picard pointed to it. Vash frowned. "I know you took my other shovel away from me, but I promise you, I am not going to use this one on any planet that is..." She stopped. He was shaking his head at her. "What is it?"

"I can hear you." He pointed at the shovel again. "I heard that land on the floor, and now I can hear you."

"Oh, Jean-Luc," she said breathlessly, "really?"

He nodded slowly. "Really."

She sat down on the bed next to him. "But how?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "But I can."

Vash was silent.

"Say something," Picard pleaded.

"What?" For the first time in her life, she was actually speechless.

"Anything."

"I love you." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Picard pulled away. "You do?"

"Oh, yes."

A smile broadened across his face. "Tell me again." He drew her into his arms.

"Just keep telling me."

~vVv~

It took extraordinary effort to keep from running down to Sickbay. As it was, Vash walked beside Picard, swinging his hand in hers. And he allowed her to as long as there were no crew members present. But whenever one of them came around a bend in the corridor, Vash quickly let go of his hand, only to reclaim it as soon as the coast was clear. Reluctantly, at the door to Sickbay, she gave it up.

They found Beverly Crusher in her office, and stood there, in the doorway, side by side, grinning. The doctor looked at them suspiciously.

"Good morning," she ventured.

"Yes, it is a good morning," Picard agreed. "One can almost hear the birds singing."

"Jean-Luc?"

"Of course, since there are no birds on a starship, I have to content myself with the sounds I can hear."

She stood up. "You can hear?"

"Well, you see, Vash had this shovel, and it fell on the floor-"

"You can hear." She came around the side of her desk and grabbed his arm, literally dragged him into the main examining room, Vash following after them.

He sat on the edge of the biobed while she examined him, smiled at the puzzled expression on her face.

When she was finished, she stepped back and stared at him. "Jean-Luc, the nerve endings in your inner ears are completely regenerated. I can find no trace of the initial damage at all."

"I think it's a miracle," Vash whispered.

"I have to agree," Crusher said. "It's almost as if..." She noticed the smile fade from Picard's face.

"Jean-Luc?" she asked, concerned.

"Q." His voice was hard, and he turned and stared at Vash. "It was Q."

"What?" she exclaimed disbelievingly.

"It was Q. He did this."

"Jean-Luc we don't know that," Crusher jumped in.

Picard continued to glare at Vash. "And you asked him to do it."

"I did not."

"You most certainly did," he said loudly.

"I... uh... I think," Crusher pointed helplessly toward her office. "I think I'll just-"

"How dare you!" Vash shouted back at him.

"I'll just leave," Crusher turned and walked quickly out of the examining room.

Neither of them noticed.

"Are you just going to stand there and deny that you asked that... that partner of yours to restore my hearing."

"Yes, I'm going to deny it. Only because I didn't think of it. But I guess I'm guilty anyway. Because had I thought of it, I would have asked him. I would have done anything so that you could hear again."

"Anything?" Picard's voice was suddenly quiet, controlled.

"Yes," Vash answered. "Are you afraid Q has corrupted my morals?"

Picard shook his head. "I should have never let you go with him."

"What should you have done?" she challenged. "Ordered me not to?"

"Yes."

"You really don't understand, do you? I'm not a member of your crew. I don't follow orders."

"When you're on my starship you do."

"Oh, really." Vash took a step closer to Picard, so that they stood, face to face, mere inches from each other. "Then maybe I don't need to be on your starship."

"Fine," he shot back.

"Fine," she agreed.

They stared hard at each other, the indecision as to who should leave the sickbay and who should stay, showed clearly on their faces. A few seconds passed, and then Picard brushed past her, went to the door. He stopped and looked back at her.

"I'm sure Q will be happy to pick you up."

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

Will Riker was surprised to see his captain step off the bridge's aft turbolift. But he was pleased. He smiled up at him.

"Captain. Doctor Crusher informed me of the good news."

Picard walked quickly past him. "Yes. Wonderful news."

He disappeared into his ready room. He stopped, stood there, eyes closed, tried to control the anger and frustration he still felt.

"She cares about you."

Picard's eyes snapped open and he whirled around.

Q was there, reclining on the couch, dressed in full scuba gear.

"What the..." Picard began.

Q looked at his clothing. "Oh. Sorry." He snapped his fingers and the scuba gear disappeared. It was replaced by a Starfleet uniform.

Picard shook his head in disgust, walked around to his desk chair and sat down.

He stared over at Q.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here?"

Q stood up and walked over to the front of his desk. "Oh, but you are. Though you shouldn't be. Surely you suspected all along that I couldn't be far behind Vash. How do you think she got here?" He sat down in the chair opposite Picard, smiled at him apologetically. "I would have been here earlier, but frankly, even a god needs shore leave. I had a wonderful time scuba diving. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"No," Picard replied coldly. "I would like you to leave."

"Oh, Jean-Luc. Must we go through this every time I come to visit? Can't you just... be happy to see me?"

"What do you want Q?"

He sighed. "Very well. I'm here to plead my partner's case. You have unjustly accused her, mon capitan. She had absolutely nothing to do with your recovery."

"But you did?" Picard asked pointedly.

"I couldn't very well leave you like that. So lost and confused. The great Jean-Luc Picard confronted with his own frailty. It must have been terribly frightening for you. I remember all too clearly my brush with... humanity. But you were there for me Jean-Luc."

Picard frowned at him. "And it is a debt you have already repaid. In full."

Q sighed again. "Sometimes, Jean-Luc, you just can't see the forest for the trees. Don't you understand? I didn't restore your hearing for you. I did it for her."

"Vash?"

"Yes. All this talk of going back to Earth, staying by your side - how sickeningly sentimental!"

Picard suddenly understood. "You didn't want to lose your partner."

"Can you blame me? She's a beautiful woman: funny, vivacious. Oh, we've had a great time, Jean-Luc. We even went back to Sarthong Nine." He frowned. "It wasn't as fun the second time though." He hesitated. "She kept talking about you. Jean-Luc this. Jean-Luc that. Frankly, I got bored. No offense, but you've never been one of my favorite topics of conversation."

"She kept talking about me?" Picard asked, somewhat intrigued.

Seeing that he'd captured the captain's interest, Q leaned forward in his chair. "Yes. All that nobility, bravery, tenderness garbage she fed me back at Nottingham Castle. Remember?"

Picard suddenly realized he'd fallen into one of Q's little traps, and he sat up, straightened his shoulders, strengthened his resolve. "Yes, Q, I remember. I remember all the happy times you and I have spent together. And now that you have most graciously come forward and cleared Vash's good name, I think we can bring this 'happy time' to its conclusion."

Q settled back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and slowly, sadly shook his head. "You haven't changed at all. And I was so hoping that this... little experiment would in some way prove beneficial to you. But you're still the same Jean-Luc Picard I've always known."

Picard eyed him curiously, but warily. "Experiment?"

"Yes," Q nodded. "Oh, hell." He got up and began to pace around the ready room. "I wasn't going to explain all of this to you. But sometimes you can be so... thick, Picard. Not only did I restore your hearing, but it was I who brought about your illness in the first place. That's why your Beverly Crusher couldn't find a cause."

"But why?" Picard asked, angered and shocked.

Q placed his hands on the desk and leaned towards Picard. "It was so painfully apparent to me that you really didn't learn your lesson in Sherwood Forest."

"Why? Because I won?"

Q shook his head. "Oh, it wasn't a contest. It was an experiment in self-discovery. And I came away feeling that you didn't discover enough about yourself. Vash thinks you're tender and vulnerable, but you don't really think that, do you, Picard?"

"I could sit here and argue with you, Q, but I don't think I'll give you the satisfaction," Picard replied evenly. "To be honest, I'm not sure I could give you a very good argument anyway. If tender and vulnerable is what you wanted to make me feel, then this time you succeeded."

Q straightened up, smiled at Picard. "Ah. A deep, meaningful insight into your personality, Jean-Luc."

Picard didn't respond.

"Don't worry," Q assured him, "a 'thank you' isn't necessary."

"I wasn't planning on offering one."

Q frowned. "I didn't really think you would. Starship captains can only be so tender." He smiled again. "Until next time, old friend." And with a flash of light, he disappeared.

~vVv~

It was a long walk to Vash's cabin, or so it seemed. Picard passed the time deep in thought. With his crew, he held an advantage. He was the captain, and very seldom was the captain ever wrong. But in this woman's eyes, what was he? He smiled, despite his worry. Rank held very little importance to her. Perhaps that was the most disconcerting thing about their relationship, yet at the same time, the most intriguing. He couldn't fall back on being "the captain" with Vash.

With her, he could only be himself. And that wasn't always easy. Sometimes, with Beverly Crusher, he let his guard down; allowed her to see the real Jean-Luc Picard. But not often. Those times were so few and far between, that even he had trouble remembering who the real Jean-Luc Picard was.

He stopped in front of Vash's door, and realized how much he cared for this woman, how much he needed her. She made him remember, and wouldn't let him forget. With her, he wasn't always right, and with a sigh of relief, he accepted the fact that he didn't always have to be.

He reached out and touched the door panel.

"Who is it?" Vash called.

Picard leaned close to the door. "It's me, Vash."

The door slid open, and he stepped into the cabin. She stood on the opposite side of the room, near the viewports.

"I've come to make my apologies," he said.

"What if I'm not ready to make mine?" she replied, tossing her hair back behind her shoulder.

Picard stared at her, mildly shocked at her slight hostility towards him. "You don't have to," he answered, feeling as if he were walking on egg shells. "But, I'm sorry."

"Why the sudden change of mind?"

"Well," Picard pursed his lips, then offered his explanation. "I just had a very enlightening conversation with Q. He confessed to it all. My illness, my recovery. He defended you quite eloquently."

"It's nice to know some man will come to my defense." Her voice was hard, accusing.

A hurt expression passed over Picard's face. "I... I am sorry, Vash," he stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Did you really think I would lie to you?"

"You have in the past."

Vash sighed. "But that was different. That was business." She looked away from him. "And it wasn't lying. It was... evading the actual truth."

Picard grinned slightly, in spite of himself. "Oh, is that what you call it?"

Hearing the amusement in his voice, Vash looked back at him fiercely. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Picard hesitated. "Q wanted me to learn a few things about myself. And I did. But not from him." He walked over to Vash, stood in front of her. "What I learned, I learned from you."

Vash studied him for a moment, then smiled slightly and touched his cheek. "You're not a very easy student."

"No." Picard brushed his hand through her hair. "But you're one hell of a teacher," he whispered. And then he kissed her.

~vVv~

They talked all night, and long into the early hours of the morning. Actually, Vash talked and Picard listened, their roles reversed. The sound of her voice was like velvet, soft in his ears. She described, in glowing detail, all the places she'd been; worlds that he, himself, would have loved to explore. She

Stirred something within him: the adventurer, the historian, the lover.

Finally, exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

~vVv~

Picard's eyes opened, and he knew immediately that she wasn't beside him. Even when they lay together in bed not touching, he could feel her there. Her presence was pure energy, electricity that leapt over empty space, and crackled along his body. He propped himself up on his elbows, breathed a sigh of relief.

She hadn't gone far. Silently, he watched her as she wandered around the room, until he realized what she was doing.

"You're leaving."

She gasped, surprised. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you were sleeping."

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye." He stared at the suitcase she was packing.

"I was going to wake you." She came over, sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why?"

"So that I could say goodbye."

He shook his head. "No. Why are you leaving?"

Vash ran her finger over the dimple in his chin. "Because you don't need me anymore."

"But what if I want you." He sat up, took hold of her hand.

She smiled. "We'll see each other again."

"Stay."

"We've had this discussion before. Do you really think I'd be happy on a starship?"

"You might be."

She stared out the viewport for a moment, then back into his eyes. "Do you remember when you told me that after the Borg, after you'd gone home to France, you seriously thought about never coming back to the _Enterprise_? And then you realized that you had to, because this is where you belonged."

He nodded.

"You do belong here, Jean-Luc. But I don't. Can you understand that?"

"Yes." He raised her hand to his cheek, held its warmth against his skin. "I understand." He hesitated.

"Where will you go now? With Q?"

"No. I think Q and I are going to part ways for a while. I'm leaving on the _Grissom_. I'm sure that somewhere between here and Earth I'll find some place to stop." She rubbed her other hand over his temple. "But know that I'll always carry you with me, Jean-Luc Picard. I love you." She leaned over and kissed him.

"I love you," he murmured, then watched as she went and picked up her suitcase and walked quietly out of his room, quietly out of his life. Until the next time.

~vVv~

The door chime sounded.

"Come."

The door slid open, and Beverly Crusher walked into his ready room. "You wanted to see me."

Picard straightened in his desk chair, set his Earl Grey down, indicated the chair opposite him. "Please, Beverly, have a seat."

She sat, took note of the soft strains of music that filled the room. "Mozart?"

Picard smiled. "Yes. I'm still trying to catch up on my listening."

"It's a good idea. It's very relaxing."

He was quiet for several moments. "Beverly?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For all you've done."

She shook her head. "I really didn't do all that much."

"Yes, you did. You were very supportive during all of this. Very understanding."

"I'm just glad that you're better." She gazed at him. "Vash left on the _Grissom_ this morning, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"I know you'll miss her."

"I will, for a while," he agreed. "We all have people who come in and out of our lives."

Crusher nodded, thought of all the people who had come in and out of hers.

"But, Beverly," Picard continued, "there are others who are always there."

In the silence that followed, he smiled, and she smiled back.

~The End~


End file.
